Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Comfort

by Kit Morgan

  “That’s more like it,” she said with a smile. Together, they left the mercantile.

  It was all Honoria could do not to follow them, but that would certainly be rude. After all, it was really none of her business.

  But Mrs. Dunnigan decided to make it hers. “Well, don’t just stand there, girl – get after them!”

  “What? Me?” Honoria asked, a little shocked.

  “Yes, you! I want to know what that woman’s about!”

  “Why don’t you go with her, Irene?” Wilfred suggested. “You know you wanna.”

  Mrs. Dunnigan scrunched her face up a few times in indecision, then growled. “Very well. Mind the store, Wilfred!” She grabbed Honoria by the arm and headed for the mercantile doors.

  “Don’t forget my list!” Honoria shouted over her shoulder as she was shoved through.

  Mrs. Dunnigan wasn’t wasting any time, heading down the boardwalk at a racer’s clip. “That woman is up to no good! I know it!”

  “But what if it’s just as Major … I mean, Mr. Comfort says, that his father is behind it?”

  “So what if he is? That woman had an awfully determined look in her eye. I’m telling you she means to stay!”

  “And get married?”

  “Certainly! Why else would she remain here?”

  “What’s got you all riled up, Irene?” Honoria looked over to find Grandma Waller, the oldest citizen of Clear Creek, standing in front of the bank, a basket on her arm.

  “One of the Comfort men went and got himself in a heap of trouble, that’s what!” Mrs. Dunnigan stopped and waited for Grandma to join them.

  “I thought I saw the eldest run by. Looked like a woman was with him, but I didn’t know who it was.”

  “Check your eyes!” Mrs. Dunnigan huffed. “She’s a stranger in town – and the kind that likes to sink her claws in a man.”

  “Now, Irene, don’t judge,” Grandma chastised. “You don’t know that.”

  “Don’t I? I’ve seen the type. She reminded me of that girl that passed through here with her family some years back – the one that tried brawling in the street with Maddie Van Zuyen!”

  Grandma’s eyes widened. “Oh, that kind, eh?”

  “You mean that Bridger girl Mama and Auntie Belle told me about?” Honoria said to clarify.

  “That’s the one,” Mrs. Dunnigan replied. “And when a woman like that shows up, it’s always trouble.”

  Grandma sobered. “Still, let’s not be too hasty in judging the poor thing. If she’s here to marry one of the Comforts, shouldn’t he deal with her? If’n he sent for her, he must want her.”

  “That’s just it, Grandma,” Honoria interjected. “He didn’t send for her.”

  “He says his pa did, without telling him,” Mrs. Dunnigan added.

  Grandma’s head swiveled between them. “Land sakes, that puts things into perspective, don’t it?”

  “Not for Mr. Comfort,” Honoria said quietly. After all, what if he slept on it, then decided he wanted to marry her in the morning? Stranger things had happened, especially in Clear Creek. Maybe Miss Lynch was just tired and cranky from the journey, and would turn out to be a real peach after a good night’s sleep.

  “C’mon, let’s go,” Mrs. Dunnigan snapped.

  “Go where?” Grandma asked.

  “To the hotel to see what’s happening, of course.” She started off again.

  “Now hold on, Irene,” Grandma called after her. “You’re poking your nose in someone else’s business.”

  “I am not!”

  “Yes, you are. You have no reason whatsoever to go to that hotel.”

  Honoria watched Mrs. Dunnigan turn to face Grandma, her face red. Grandma was right, as usual, which made her feel all the more guilty for wanting to come along. “Maybe we should go back to the mercantile, have a glass of lemonade?”

  “I will not go back to the mercantile! That woman is up to no good!”

  Grandma rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Then I’m going with you. Lord knows someone has to keep you from scaring the poor thing to death.”

  “Scare her to death?” Mrs. Dunnigan snapped. “She scares me!” She stomped toward the hotel, leaving Honoria and Grandma to stare after her.

  “What did she mean by that?” Honoria asked, perplexed.

  “Good question, child,” Grandma replied. “Let’s find out.”

  By the time they caught up to Mrs. Dunnigan, she was already inside. Lorcan Brody, the hotel manager, raised his head from his seat behind the front counter. “Afternoon, Grandma,” he greeted in his Irish brogue.

  Grandma stopped short and smiled. “If’n I ever stop using lilac water, Lorcan, you’ll never guess it’s me.”

  He grinned. “Lilac water suits you. Never stop using it.”

  “One of these days I will, just to trip you up! Where’d Irene go?”

  “Dining room.” He pointed, his sightless eyes trained on them.

  Honoria and Grandma headed in that direction. Lorcan’s blindness and how he compensated with his other senses was legendary in Clear Creek. He knew almost everyone in town by sound and scent alone. Honoria always marveled at it. The man was a walking, talking miracle.

  And speaking of miracles, it sounded like Mr. Comfort would need one … “I will not leave! If you think you can just shove me onto a stage and send me back, then you have another thing coming, Mr. Comfort!”

  Honoria and Grandma joined Mrs. Dunnigan near one of the dining tables. Major Comfort sat at another with an irate Miss Lynch as Sally Upton, the hotel cook, laid out a tea service for them, her eyes wide as platters as she listened to the woman’s tirade.

  “I came all this way to get married and I’m going to do it! Besides, you signed the marriage contract.”

  Honoria watched as Major (why fight it?) openly gaped. “Ma’am, I did no such thing. Please, let me see that contract.”

  Sally set the teapot on the table, turned to a cart and picked up a plate of cookies and scones. She was about to set them down as well when Miss Lynch started waving an arm around as if she was going to hit something. Sally’s eyes followed the limb, waiting for an opening to set the plate on the table.

  “Well, someone signed it!” Miss Lynch yelled.

  “Probably my father,” Major grumbled.

  “What seems to be the trouble here?”

  Everyone turned to see the newcomer. A distinguished-looking middle-aged man stood at the entrance to the room. He had blond hair and hazel eyes, and his clothes looked to be the latest fashion from Paris: a grey frock coat and matching top hat with light grey trousers and a white waistcoat. Honoria idly wondered how long it would be before his outfit became too soiled to wear. This was Clear Creek, after all – no cobbled roads or fancy coaches. Dressing as this man did just wasn’t practical out here.

  “Daddy!”

  Honoria’s head snapped to Miss Lynch, and saw immediately the resemblance between father and daughter. Well, this was getting very complicated very quickly …

  Mrs. Dunnigan, tactful soul that she was, wasted no time. “Good God, man, who in Sam Blazes are you?”

  The man turned to the three women. “Archibald Lynch at your service, Madame.” Honoria noticed he spoke like an Easterner. Then why did Miss Lynch talk with a Southern accent? She glanced once more between the two. Odd.

  Mr. Lynch strolled into the room as if he owned the hotel – even stopping to wipe a white-gloved finger across the back of a chair and inspect it for dust. Everyone else could only stare. Who were these people, Honoria wondered.

  She wasn’t the only one. Major stood and looked Mr. Lynch up and down. “I’ll repeat Mrs. Dunnigan’s question, sir. Who exactly are you?”

  “I see no need to repeat my answer.”

  Major’s mouth pressed into a firm line and Honoria wondered if he might be counting to ten. He certainly looked it. Finally he said. “I take it, this is your daughter?”

  “Whom else would she be?”

  �
��At this point, I have no idea,” Major replied. It was quite apparent, to everyone but the Lynches, that he was becoming agitated.

  “As the lady did call me ‘Father’ a moment ago, I thought it obvious.”

  Major frowned. “Allow me to inquire further, then. What are you doing here? Fathers usually don’t accompany their daughters in these instances.”

  “Can’t a father ensure his daughter is marrying the right man? I’ll not see her wed to some cowboy miscreant.”

  “I am not a miscreant, sir.”

  “Glad to hear it. When’s the wedding?”

  Major’s cheeks flushed. Honoria, realizing this might take a while, pulled out a chair and sat. Mrs. Dunnigan and Grandma followed suit, while Sally pushed the tea cart to their table and started to serve.

  “There isn’t going to be one, sir,” Major stated. “I’m afraid someone else engineered your daughter’s coming without my knowledge. I had no part in this.”

  Mr. Lynch now studied Major carefully, as if he was a new suit he fancied. “Really?”

  “Truly. I did not send away for a mail-order bride, sir”

  Mr. Lynch held a hand out to his daughter. “Lucretia, where’s the contract?”

  She leaned over, plucked a satchel off the floor, set it in her lap and began to dig through the contents.

  “My daughter has a signed contract, sir, and by Heaven you’re going to honor it,” Mr. Lynch insisted evenly.

  “I did not sign it,” Major argued. “Even if I wished to, which I didn’t, there is no way I could. I have not visited any such agency, nor have I left the environs of this town in months.”

  “I was informed you signed it and mailed it to Mrs. Pettigrew,” Mr. Lynch countered.

  “Mrs. Pettigrew? You mean that strange woman that matched my sister with Eli Turner?”

  “I know nothing of that. But we dealt with a Mrs. Pettigrew from Denver, and at no small cost to us.”

  Grandma grabbed a handful of cookies and started to munch one, her eyes glued to the scene. Mrs. Dunnigan slurped her tea. Sally, settling in for the show, joined them and poured herself a cup. Honoria fidgeted, not sure if she should openly stare like the others, look the other way, or try to sneak off.

  “Cost?” Major asked. “Since when does it cost the bride anything? As I recall in my sister’s case, the intended groom sends any train or stage fare.”

  “Exactly!” Miss Lynch said. “Which you failed to do!”

  “Because, dear lady, I never sent for a bride.”

  “Nevertheless,” Mr. Lynch continued. “My daughter is here, and she will get married.”

  “I have no objection to that, sir,” Major replied. “So long as it is not to me.” He turned to leave.

  “Why, you disreputable scoundrel!” Mr. Lynch fumed. “That’s your name on that contract and I’m going to hold you to it!”

  Major walked over to him, bringing them nose-to-nose. “I have yet to see this contract.”

  Mr. Lynch held his hand out, and his daughter slapped a folded piece of paper into it. With a flick of his wrist, he unfolded it and held it up in front of Major. “Here.”

  Major backed up two steps and began to read, scowling all the while. Honoria was tempted to move closer and look at it herself.

  “You see?” Mr. Lynch said in satisfaction. “Now, are you going to abide by this legal document?”

  “This ‘legal document’ has been falsified,” Major replied calmly.

  “Do you deny that that’s your signature?” Mr. Lynch asked.

  “I most certainly do. It’s not only a forgery, but a bad one.”

  “A likely story!” Mr. Lynch quickly folded the paper and stuck it in the inside pocket of his frock coat. “If you don’t wish to make arrangements for the wedding, I’ll be happy to do so.”

  Major’s mouth flopped open, as did those of the other Clear Creek residents in attendance. Was he joking?

  “Thank you, Daddy!” Miss Lynch blurted as she stood. “Can we get a room now? I’ve had a horrible day!”

  “Of course, my dear,” he cooed as he offered her his arm. Before anyone could say another word, they made their way out of the dining room and straight to the hotel’s front desk.

  Chapter 3

  Major stood frozen. Part of him wanted to go after them, question them further, but he doubted it would do much good – Mr. Lynch and his daughter wouldn’t even face the fact of the forged signature. Great Scott, was the man that desperate to see his daughter married? For that matter, was his own father that desperate to see him married?

  He sank heavily into his chair and groaned. He’d get it sorted out soon, no doubt, but right now all he wanted was a cup of Mrs. Upton’s tea and one of the lemon scones she’d placed on the table. He picked one up, bit into it and let the sweetness take his mind off things.

  “Are you all right?”

  He looked up. Honoria Cooke stood on the other side of the table, her eyes full of concern. “A little befuddled, but I’ll get over it.”

  “Can I help?”

  Before he could answer, Irene Dunnigan and Grandma Waller joined her. “Land sakes, son, Grandma said. “What was all that about?”

  “I knew she was up to no good!” Irene huffed.

  Major held up both hands to quiet them. “A mistake has been made, ladies, nothing more. I’ll settle it after I’ve had time to think – and speak with my brothers.” Perhaps one of them had written to their father, prompting this mess.

  “You really didn’t know she was coming?” Miss Cooke asked.

  He gazed at her a moment before answering. Her social graces might not be the most refined, but she had the warmest brown eyes. Kind, gentle …

  “Don’t just sit there!” Irene barked. “Answer the girl!”

  Major pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, Miss Cooke, I hadn’t an inkling. But no need to fret – I’ll deal with the situation.”

  Miss Cooke continued to stare at him with those lovely doe eyes of hers. It was all he could do not to stare right back, get lost in them for a while. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with such nonsense. But I know you’ll set things right. I just hope that poor girl wasn’t too disappointed.”

  Major looked past the trio to the lobby. There was no sign of Mr. Lynch or his daughter. Lorcan must’ve given them room keys and sent them upstairs. “She seems determined to stay in town and marry. I’m sure she can find someone willing.” Whoever the poor chap turned out to be.

  “Well, if that’s what she came to Clear Creek for, there’s no shame in it,” said Grandma. “Lord knows we have enough single men in town what with you and your brothers, not to mention everyone else at the men’s camp.”

  True enough,” Major agreed. “But how many of them can support a bride?”

  “That’s a fair point,” she conceded. “But if’n you don’t fancy her, I’m sure someone else will find a way.” She looked at her companions. “Show’s over, you two. Ain’t you got things to do?”

  “Oh yes, I’d best see to my list.” Miss Cooke said. “Wilfred should’ve filled it by now.” She gave Major a parting smile, then headed for the lobby.

  Grandma eyed Irene. “Well? Satisfied?”

  Irene scrutinized him a moment, glanced at the lobby in time to see Miss Cooke go through the hotel doors, then turned her gaze on him again. “I’ll be watching,” she said, eyes narrowed. “You can count on it.”

  Major pressed his mouth into a firm line to keep from laughing. “In this instance, dear woman, I’d like nothing more.”

  Her eyebrows shot up at that. “I’ll get to it, then,” she said, then turned and left the dining room as well. He’d half-expected her to salute.

  Grandma Waller shook her head. “Don’t mind Irene. She might be grouchy, but she means well. Though I have to admit, your so-called mail-order bride must’ve rubbed her the wrong way somehow.”

  “I know, Grandma – Mrs. Dunnigan is just being protective. And I think Miss Lynch rubbed ev
eryone the wrong way today.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? I hope she’s just tired – she’ll never get anywhere in the world if she’s a harpy like that all the time.” Grandma shook her head again. “One thing about Irene, though – she is good about keeping secrets. Fanny Fig, on the other hand …”

  “Oh yes, dear Mrs. Fig. My sister informed me that if you want everyone in town to know something, just tell Fanny.” He stood again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to the mercantile and get the things I came to town for.”

  “Well, one thing’s for sure, Mr. Comfort,” Grandma said. “You’re gonna have quite a tale to tell when you get back to the men’s camp.”

  “That I will.” He only wished it were about someone else.

  Honoria stood and listened as Mrs. Dunnigan told her husband everything that had transpired at the hotel between Major and his so-called mail-order bride. Wilfred stood and listened as he continued to fill Honoria’s order. “You don’t say?” he’d mutter now and then as his wife prattled on.

  But what came out of Irene Dunnigan’s mouth was hardly prattle. Honoria could tell the woman was generally concerned. Why, she had no idea, but she was acting more like a protective bulldog than a gossip, and was obviously recruiting Wilfred into joining her attempt at keeping the town safe. What sort of harm she thought Mr. Lynch and his daughter could do, Honoria had no idea. But the woman definitely saw danger in the pair.

  “… And that’s why that woman and her father are not allowed in this store!” She finished by smacking her ladle on the counter. Honoria hadn’t even seen her grab hold of it. It must’ve been on a shelf underneath the countertop.

  “Calm down, Irene,” Wilfred urged. “You act as if you expect them two to rob the bank.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried.”

  “Maybe they’re just as they appear,” Honoria suggested. “If they’re from back East, or even Colorado where Mrs. Pettigrew is, they’ve had a very long journey. Miss Lynch is entitled to be a little cranky after making such a trip.”

  “That’s all well and good, young lady – I can understand that,” Mrs. Dunnigan replied, a little calmer now. “But what’s that man doing here with her?”